east."

"You got to show us up a reg'lar Christmas dinner to match that," said
one of the men to Corrigan.

After the meal, which Bobby enjoyed thoroughly, because it was so
different from what he had at home, he had a request to proffer.

"Papa," he demanded, "I want to go out on the booms."

"Haven't time to-day, Bobby," replied Mr. Orde. "You just play around."

But Jim Denning would not have this.

"Can't start 'em in too early, Jack," said he. "I bet you'd been fished
out from running logs before you were half his age."

Mr. Orde laughed.

"Right you are, Jim, but we were raised different in those days."

"Well," said Denning, "work's slack. I'll let one of the men take him."

At the moment a youth of not more than fifteen years of age was passing
from the cook house to the booms. He had the slenderness of his years,
but was toughly knit, and already possessed in eye and mouth the steady
unwavering determination that the river life develops. In all details
of equipment he was a riverman complete: the narrow-brimmed black felt
hat, pushed back from a tangle of curls; the flannel shirt crossed by
the broad bands of the suspenders; the kersey trousers "stagged" off a
little below the knee; the heavy knit socks; and the strong shoes armed
with thin half-inch, needle-sharp caulks.

"Jimmy Powers!" called the River Boss after this boy, "Come here!"

The youth approached, grinning cheerfully.

"I want you to take Bobby out on the booms," commanded Denning, "and be
careful he don't fall in."

The older men moved away. Bobby and Jimmy Powers looked a little
bashfully at each other, and then turned to where the first hewn logs
gave access to the booms.

"Ever been out on 'em afore?" asked Jimmy Powers.

"Yes" replied Bobby; then after a pause, "I been out to the swing with
Papa."

They walked out on the floating booms, which tipped and dipped ever so
slightly under their weight. Bobby caught himself with a little stagger,
although his footing was a good three feet in width. On either side of
him nuzzled the great logs, like patient beasts, and between them were
narrow strips of water, the colour of steel that has just cooled.

"How deep is it here?" asked Bobby.

"Bout six feet," replied Jimmy Powers.

They passed an intersection, and came to an empty enclosure over which
the water stretched like a blue sheet. Bobby looked back. Already the
shore seemed far away. Through the interstices between the pi